


A Huge Step Towards

by Nadler



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 23:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13421688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadler/pseuds/Nadler
Summary: Juuse moves out and grows up. Pekka's not as prepared for that as he thought.





	A Huge Step Towards

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this might not make any sense without reading [my rinne/saros nesting fic ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11999985) to which is this mostly a sequel to. And thanks to R for helping me out!

Pekka knows when Juuse starts looking at apartments. It's a little obvious when he starts texting and asking if he's left this or that at Pekka's. Juuse moves out not with a clatter of junk in someone's truck—all at once to make Pekka feel like there's a piece missing in his house—but in steps; his gear, his games, his clothes vanish until Pekka's not quite sure when was the last time he saw them. 

He can't say the same for Juuse, and Pekka's not sure he wants to. Sometimes he's just there, like he never left. If Pekka's particularly unkind, sometimes he thinks Juuse might be a semi-stray that comes back because he feeds him. 

"Don't you keep food in your place?" Pekka teases, but he's not complaining when Juuse sits at a stool at his kitchen counter, unasked for but not unwelcome. Pekka heard him coming in. Juuse's never made an attempt to be quiet or sneaky, and Pekka doesn't know if he even could. In any case, Pekka never asked for his key back. 

"Some," Juuse says, smiling back. It's a game. Juuse's still here to watch TV and chatter about nothing, for dinner some nights, bad movies others. "But I probably need to do laundry, too." 

Pekka snorts, but he chuckles and hands Juuse a knife and an onion. "Make yourself useful, then." 

It doesn't feel like Juuse ever really left, except for the part where Pekka wakes up and expects to see someone, to hear someone rummage around in the kitchen or the den, and he doesn't. 

Pekka finds himself looking over his shoulder, sometimes. But Juuse's not there. 

 

He doesn't miss Juuse. Not during the short summer. Pekka thinks about coming back to Finland and enjoying the brisk air. There aren't lakes in Nashville, not like there are back home, and Pekka tries to both savor and save the memory of the water at his toes, at the view on a lake from his fishing boat. He misses it, the forest and the water. But it is a short summer, and Pekka's already missed the usual camping trip that marks the beginning of his off-season, days with friends and old teammates in the forest. They've yet to see all of Finland, and there's always a new trail, another lake. There will be another time, when the summer is not as short. So he stays in Nashville, takes a week off to decompress and then gets to work on his routine. 

 

He really can't miss Juuse, not when they're on the same team and they play hockey for a living. He sees Juuse at practice, in the room, all the normal places teammates see each other. Juuse sets skate on the ice first, skating circles and wanting to help Ben with setup for their drills, and Pekka finishes another set of stretches before he even dares to take the ice. Pekka doesn't want to say his joints creak, but sometimes, he almost thinks so. 

It's easy to look and wonder where Juuse even gets the energy, watching him scraping ice with his skate, moving around the net and then idly skating circles while the fiddly bits are worked out. 

"They grow up so fast, huh," Cody says, off to Pekka's side. Pekka doesn't know the guy that well, but he's team now, and some guys are chatty. "You ready to start redecorating?" 

Pekka frowns. "I don't know what you're talking about," he settles on. 

"I think most people are glad that they don't have to make anyone clean their rooms anymore!" chirps Cody, and he's off to join the rest of the skaters, and Pekka shakes his head. Another one of these jokes. Pekka should have expected that.

 

There are good wins this year. There were good wins last year, too, but it's always good to start off with a win. They raise some banners, and there are a lot of goals. Pekka's glad to have this game behind him. He must be rustier than he thought he was. 

The usual locker room noise is there: people cooling down, icing things already, making sure they haven't broken anything in game one. PK has a smile on his face says something indistinct to Smitty, and the shine of playing again hasn't worn off anyone. 

Juuse shucks off his gear, tells Pekka, "Wait up for me. I'll be ready to go when you are." And that's how Pekka knows he's not going to break their post-game habits. Mostly. 

"Take a shower," Pekka says, because even sitting in gear for a game is rank, and they all know this. Juuse's sheepish, but he smiles. 

Pekka talks to Calle and Miikka for a little bit, while running through his own post-game miscellanea. There's cameras and interviews ready for when he's decent again, and he doesn't mind talking to the media when he knows what they're asking, when the news is good. They leave after the cameras are gone. Pekka shoots a look at Juuse, as Pekka's standing outside his own car door. Then he promptly realizes he didn't drive Juuse anywhere. That he doesn't need to, anymore. It's odd to think about. 

"There's no point in me moving out if I don't go home," Juuse says. And well, he's right. 

Pekka shakes his head. "You're right." Before he opens the door, he remembers to add, "I've got the space if your building catches on fire." 

At Pekka's, Juuse makes popcorn, and Pekka scrolls through what must be simultaneously every movie in the world and none of the good ones. He finally decides by picking something with an inoffensive action-adventure movie poster, and Juuse decides to announce his arrival by throwing a piece at Pekka. 

He settles down on the couch as Pekka's flicking the white puff back at him. The movie's about some guy, who has to rescue someone or something or possibly escape and ruin three cars along the way. 

Juuse looks like he's paying attention, even if Pekka's tuning out most of the show. He leans back against the couch and yawns. Pekka doesn't want to think about how he breathes easier when Juuse's near. He's too old for this, too tired. 

The thing is: Juuse's cute. Pekka's known that since he saw an awkward kid at Worlds, one who hung on Pekka's words like he was going to share ancient goalie wisdom. (He didn't, mostly because there is no such thing as ancient goalie wisdom because they're all fools, to play the game this way.)

Pekka took in a rookie who needed something to ground him, but mostly, he took in Juuse because Pekka couldn't bear the thought of leaving a young goalie to flounder, younger than Pekka was when he left Finland. He remembers being Juuse's age, but he doesn't remember being as hardy or as savvy, always looking at Pekka with those round, bright eyes that it makes Pekka ache, sometimes. He's always aware that Juuse looks up to him, that there's a part of him that's crystalline and untouchable in the way childhood heroes can only be. Pekka doesn't know how to break it to him that he's only human, and sometimes he tries, but it's hard to not want to be better when someone's looking to you explicitly for example. 

 

Arizona is hot hellscape somedays, or maybe it just feels like it when they lose. 

"I'm tired," Juuse says, afterward, and they all are. Still, they got to overtime, and a point is good, and they can't keep riding on where they are in the standings, but they're not dying for the lack of the second point. 

They're on the road, and Pekka looks around the room. He may be content, himself, to go back to his room and lick his wounds after his losses like this, but he knows this isn't everyone else's reaction; the room's young, and he can see that some of the others: Arvy, Eky, Freddy—wanting to work out the anxieties instead of sleeping on it. 

As long as no one comes to practice hungover, it doesn't matter. They have a plane to catch.

Juuse catches Pekka in the elevator. "Can I hang out in yours?" 

"Roommate giving you trouble?" Pekka means it as a joke, but the way Juuse frowns and wrinkles his nose basically says it all. Pekka does not miss having a roommate. But if they were all like Juuse, maybe his thoughts would have changed. 

Juuse watches some videos about cats in boxes until even he can't stand it anymore, and Pekka fishes in his bag for a deck of cards after that. Cards are simple, easy, and after Pekka loses a couple of games, the competitiveness in them emerges. It's a pretty quiet night, but Juuse falls asleep with soft snores, and the rest will do him good. 

Pekka brushes the hair out of his sleeping face. 

 

Before they play Edmonton, Pekka skates hard in practice, and he almost elbows Joey when Pekka comes out of the crease to challenge. 

There's a restless feeling underneath Pekka's skin. He could be better. Mostly, Pekka feels good. Back in the locker room, he shakes out his soreness and the ache of the last week, cracks his neck. 

"Get me two in the first," he says, closing his eyes. The room goes silent. Sure, Roman's the captain now, but his peptalks aren't quite Fish's, and they're all looking at Pekka right now. "I'll hold down the fort." 

"That a promise, Peks?" PK asks, looking around. The energy's thrumming right now, and Pekka feels cocky, so he doesn't care about the grin across his face.

"Do I lie?" Pekka raises an eyebrow. "Trust me." 

Roman gives a shout. "You heard him. Let's go fucking play."

The team gets him two in the first. And Pekka is a man of his word. He keeps his promise. Pekka bares his teeth a little too much before he's consciously aware of himself. He feels all eyes on him, knows that he can't make a wrong move.

"Hey," Juuse asks Pekka, waiting for all the slow lumbering hockey players in front of them to leave the locker room, who've lingered because they have days and days off now. It's not unlike watching a screen disappear and almost as irritating. Pekka hasn't made plans. "Have you seen my apartment yet?" 

It's a question that Pekka didn't expect to hear. He hadn't. It felt a little intrusive, to ask; it was Juuse's space, and Pekka was an old man. He didn't need to be nosy, too. He didn't need to see a bachelor pad or whatever Juuse had come up with or possibly what an interior decorator had done. But Juuse was asking, so Pekka says, "No," with a smile. "Are you finally unashamed enough to show me it?" 

"It's not that bad," protests Juuse, and then he looks a little shifty. He relaxes a little, though.

 

They send Juuse down the next morning. 

It's not a bad idea, once Pekka realizes it's just another trip down to keep Juuse sharp and occupied. Pekka hears it from Juuse, a quick message on his phone: _hey, will you drive me to the airport?_ like it's nothing, but compared to first time Nashville sent him down, it's nothing. They have a bye week, and while Pekka's joints will thank the days to sit in a sauna, Juuse's young, and there are games to be had. 

Juuse dusts off Pekka's passenger seat when Pekka pulls up to his apartment complex, after throwing his suitcase in Pekka's backseat. He doesn't sit down. "Hey," Juuse says. "You made it. Early, even." 

"What better things do I have to do?" He might be late to other things, but he's gotten better at it since his rookie days, so Pekka doesn't know if he quite deserves the ribbing. 

Juuse checks the clock. "Do you want a tour?" 

"It'd be nice to know you're not living in a cardboard box." 

The look on Juuse's face is almost consternation, but he starts walking up, and Pekka follows. "It's a real fancy cardboard box," Juuse promises. 

It's an apartment. The shiny hardwood floors clack when Pekka toes his shoes off. 

"Looks like you don't even have any boxes." Pekka's a little impressed, actually. The furniture's bland, but it's not even all Ikea. His living room is not-quite pristine, but there's a couch and a TV and a blanket that Juuse used to keep on his bed, but now thrown over the back of the couch.

"It's been months, Pekka. Give me _some_ credit." Juuse leans against the doorway. He looks pleased with himself. "What do you think?" 

"It's nice." Pekka can see a bit of the kitchen from where he stands, and it looks like stainless steel everything, which is a choice he wouldn't have made—not one he's sure Juuse made, either, but it's interesting. "I thought I was getting a tour?" 

Pekka can swear Juuse flushes a little. "Right. So this is the living room." He points at doors, down a hallway. It's the usual. Bathrooms, bedrooms, closets. There's only so many ways to put a place together, but Juuse seems earnest and a little proud of himself that Pekka can't help but smile. 

Pekka can't keep himself from chuckling, from messing with Juuse's dark hair on the way out and then saying, "Alright, we've dawdled enough. It'll still be there when you come back." 

In the car, Pekka can't say Juuse's exactly pouting, but he's something when he says, "I see you're ready to leave me so you can enjoy a vacation." 

"You're the one who's staying in a nice hotel." It was probably an exaggeration, but it was true, though Juuse would probably be spending most of the time at the rink. Pekka looks over his shoulder and reverses. "And the one who's going." Again, he doesn't add. Juuse's racked up a lot of flight miles this season, and it should be familiar by now, and it is and isn't. It's not the same in Nashville without him, Pekka doesn't say; Lindback's a good guy, but he's also, you know, Swedish, and theirs is not a friendship that extends past a few beers every now and then. 

"I'd stay if I could, you know that," Juuse says, and Pekka can tell he's looking right at him. And, if he's honest, Pekka thinks he knows what he'll see if he looks back. 'Eyes on the road,' Pekka tells himself, and he takes two deep breaths. 

"You'll be back before you know it." Pekka thinks it might be for his benefit more than Juuse's. 

Juuse hugs him before he goes. Like every other time, Juuse says, "I'll see you soon, Pekka." And like every other time, Pekka's stomach wrenches a little. 

 

Pekka keeps tabs on Juuse down in Milwaukee. They're good games. He can get the scores on his phone, and Pekka makes sure to send a " _Good game_ " after each one. Juuse sends back a few emojis that Pekka can't quite decipher, but a smiley is a smiley. 

 

When they get back, Juuse shuts out the Golden Knights for the Preds' only win against them. It's a hell of a game. 

There's a point where, at a stoppage, Juuse skates over for some advice, and Pekka can't say anything but, "Keep it up. You're doing great." 

"I know." Juuse smiles, lights up like a lighthouse. 

After the game, everyone knows he deserves the extra adulation, but someone calls out "Speech!" until there's a chant. He has a shutout, and any other day Pekka would be telling Juuse that this team should be able to score more than one goal, but that's all they needed. It's an impressive one, too, forty-three saves. 

Someone axes the idea of buying Juuse a shot for every save very quickly, but it's still a good night nonetheless. Pekka also suggests that he might have something tucked away for a special occasion, for Juuse's ears only. 

It's that simple for the fervor to die down once Juuse tries a couple of time to diffuse anyone wanting to take him out to a bar to celebrate. 

 

"I'm still playing for you," Juuse says, the moment Pekka closes the door. He doesn't turn away, doesn't flinch as he looks up. Pekka sees him not posturing to look bigger but instead controlled and poised. There's a light in Juuse's eyes that speaks of _challenge_ and of determination, and there's a quieter flutter in Pekka's chest that he doesn't know what to do with. But also, Pekka thinks he might have known, if Juuse hadn't been so good on home ice. 

"Didn't I say not to get hung up on me?" Pekka's the one that looks away because he can't take Juuse's crestfallen face or worse, Juuse pushing even more. He doesn't know which one he's expecting. He doesn't know which one he wants to face. 

It shouldn't be like this. Juuse moved out, and Pekka thought this was the end, that he'd get over his—whatever this is, crush or hero worship or both—but he's still here, a year later, riding off another devastatingly good shutout, and he's looking to Pekka to pronounce it _good_ and _enough_. Like that's the only thing that matters, not the win or the shutout or the team's praise, only Pekka's thoughts.

"You're not saying no." Juuse's right; Pekka may be many things, but he isn't a liar. Then, quieter. "You said I passed." 

And Pekka had almost forgotten he'd done that. "Right, I did." Pekka doesn't know how to say he doesn't have to be won, and it's a lie to say that he's not impressed. He is. He sees everything that Juuse can be, more than anyone else hopes to say, and he knows his part in this. There's a reason the mentor always dies in movies; one day, he won't be able to be there, and he can't help that powerful fact, and Juuse doesn't need him as much as he think he does. 

"I did it better this time," Juuse says, holding his breath, like Pekka could dash all his hopes in an instant. "You said you liked it." 

Juuse moved out, and his apartment's very nice for what it is, and Pekka should have realized this, again. Pekka sighs. "Juuse," he begins. But he doesn't really know how to end that thought.

"Tell me to leave," Juuse dares, confrontational. 

Pekka can't. He cups Juuse's face, thumb running over Juuse's cheekbone to his mole—beauty mark, if Pekka wouldn't get chirped to hell for calling it what it was—and he takes a breath. Or maybe Juuse does. Pekka's not sure either of them are breathing at the moment. Pekka can't look away from Juuse's eyes, not when he's so sincere and searching.

"You don't want me to." And Pekka's not sure who says that, but it's true in both cases. Pekka lets go, dropping his hand, the light showing every single angle of Juuse's expression. 

"You still owe me a drink, I think." It's easier to go over to the bar, to do something other than battle feelings at Pekka's door, so they do. Pekka didn't lie. His liquor collection is pretty varied, and he pulls a bottle from the cabinet and dusts the label off. 

They toast silently.

Maybe it's easier to look like you're moping at a bar, when you're sitting on a stool. Juuse props himself on an elbow and says, "You didn't say anything when I moved out. Or even before that." 

"Was I supposed to stop you?" But Juuse's right. Pekka never said anything. "What kind of a person would I be if I did?" 

"Did you want me to go?" 

"I," Pekka swallows a lump in his throat. "I don't think I'd ever ask you to leave." Maybe that was selfish of him. It was a good thing Juuse decided to move out, to move away, and Pekka couldn't fault him at all.

"So ask me to stay." Juuse's hand finds Pekka's wrist, and he can probably feel how Pekka's heart speeds up. But Juuse will leave, has left, and it's easier to never ask at all then to live with the certainty that this won't last, that one of them might regret it. 

"Stay," Pekka tells him, and he feels like a fool for ever thinking there was another answer than _forward_. 

 

Juuse does. His eyes light up, and he kisses like a drowning man, like Pekka's water and he can't get away, but also that he'd never want to. Pekka doesn't know how anyone would ever say no to this, and so, he doesn't. 

 

Pekka wakes up to the sun in his eyes, and Juuse against him. He thinks he has the better end of the deal. "This was nice." 

Even as he attempts to burrow into Pekka's chest, Juuse sleepily huffs. "Only nice? I'll have to do better."

"I don't think I've seen the rest of your apartment yet," Pekka says, running a hand through Juuse's messy hair. "We'll see." 

Juuse smiles against Pekka's skin.


End file.
